


the photographs in your memory never blur

by tiesmp3



Category: Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them (Movies)
Genre: Anyways, Past Abuse, but like at least by name, damb, i added mary lou but she's only really like.....mentioned, if not alluded to, tina is also only mentioned, whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-30
Updated: 2016-11-30
Packaged: 2018-09-03 03:21:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8694400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiesmp3/pseuds/tiesmp3
Summary: is forgetting truly worth it?(the title comes from the song "footprint" from a musical called the theory of relativity.)





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is sort of (extremely) inspired by a tumblr post i saw containing a headcanon akin to this hahh i love crewt with my entire being

"Newt?"

The voice comes suddenly, breaking the silence with a jarring echo. Newt feels himself flinch, and he sits bolt upright on the floor. It takes him a few moments to register exactly _why_ he's on the floor in the first place, but when he comes to the realization he settles a bit. He is inside the suitcase, and he's slept on the floor so someone else could take his bed - someone who needed it more than he did, anyway.

"Sorry."

"No, no," Newt says, stretching out his arms on either side. He blinks away the sleep from his eyes. "It's all right, Credence." He punctuates the sentence with a large yawn.

"I-I don't really - it's not that important, I shouldn't've woken you."

Newt smiles to himself, even though it's dark and Credence can't see it. He stands up slowly, then turns around and turns on a lamp. He squints at the sudden brightness. Credence flinches - or, at least, Newt is fairly certain he does, because the bed makes a sudden creaking noise.

"So," Newt says finally, clapping his hands together softly, "what is it that you wanted to tell me - or ask me?"

Credence shakes his head. "It was stupid - er, unintelligent. Not well thought out, at all, actually. You'd have laughed at me if you got the chance to hear it." He chuckles, but it lacks any humor.

Newt frowns a bit, furrowing his eyebrows as he approaches the bed. Credence sits huddled in a corner formed by the headboard of the bed and the wall, with his knees pulled up to his chest and his chin resting on his forearms, hugging his legs; his bony elbows jut out, and he taps his fingers on his arms. He makes himself so small for such a lanky, long person. It bothers Newt, but only vaguely, like a tugging at his chest, because Newt knows that there is a reason behind it; Credence has always thought he had to hide.

"I don't think I'd laugh at you," Newt replies after a long bout of silence, gently lowering himself onto the bed. Credence relaxes, if only the slightest bit, loosening the death grip he'd plastered onto his arms. "I think I'd actually love to hear what you wanted to say, that is, if you still want to. I'd have no problem with it."

Credence smiles. It's a small smile, pathetic if nothing else, but Newt's own grin widens at the sight of it. It gives him a warm feeling inside, seeing Credence... _safe._

"Okay," Credence says, breathy, as though in preparation. "I just - What happened? After the whole-" He makes vague hand gestures, twisting his hands in circular motions, and somehow Newt understands him entirely.

"What do you mean by that?" Newt asks. He knows to what Credence is referring, but he can't possibly know in what context.

"H-how much damage did I cause?"

His voice is frail - distraught - destroyed - nothing short of a whimper. He buries his head in the crook of his elbow, murmuring softly to himself, words Newt can't hear but isn't sure if he wholly wants to. 

There is a long silence before Newt speaks up again. "A lot," he concedes - this makes Credence let out a low moan, and he says something else that Newt can't quite catch. "But - but wait," Newt continues, "I don't think you have much to worry about on that subject. The MACUSA" - he says this with care, making sure to enunciate every letter, because, by God, it's the longest acronym he's ever had to use in his life - "is taking care of it. I'm sure it'll all be fine."

Credence lifts his head, resting his chin on his elbow so he faces Newt. He purses his lips and lets his gaze fall to the bedsheets. "And the - the people?"

"What about them?"

"Has this - has it done anything? To them?" He seems to immediately regret the question, shutting his eyes tightly and squeaking "sorry sorry sorry" into the pale skin of his arm.

Newt shakes his head, reaching out a hand to touch Credence gently on the shoulder. Credence flinches from the sudden contact, but eases into it, and Newt rubs up and down on Credence's shoulder with the soft touch of a loving friend.

"It's all right, Credence," Newt murmurs. "No, if you mean in the mental sense or the physical sense. The rebuilding - obviously - is happening, but, well, they don't remember anything that happened then."

Credence perks up. "H-how?"

Newt grins self-satisfactorily, dropping his hand from Credence's shoulder so he can speak with his hands. "The venom of the Swooping Evil has the capability to erase bad memories," he recites proudly, as though reading a definition from a textbook. "I discovered that. A Thunderbird that I'd helped from Egypt - I'd named him Frank, God, Credence, you'd have loved him - started a storm that rained down the venom on the city, and, well - you can assume what happens next." As though in demonstration, Newt toys at the cocoon of the Swooping Evil.

Credence's eyes are wide when Newt looks back at him. He's caught up on something, and Newt can sense it without even asking.

"Y-you said it - it erases bad memories?" Credence asks, awestruck, blinking at the cocoon with his mouth slightly agape.

Newt raises an eyebrow, but he nods besides the fact, his idea being that Credence is curious about his magical creatures - _and rightfully so,_ Newt thinks with a small smirk to himself.

Credence inspects the cocoon, then looks back up at Newt, his gaze deadly serious. "Is it - can you do that to me?"

Immediately, Newt furrows his eyebrows, frowning at the question. "I mean - Credence, why would you want to -"

And then, as sudden as a punch to the face, it hits him, cold and hard and _sickening._ Newt can picture - vividly, vibrantly, _disgustingly_ \- what Tina had told him about. The woman. Credence's own mother.

The woman who _beat_ him.

He can see it, and suddenly that is all he can see - it flashes into his mind, perfectly imagined yet so, so wrong. Credence - small, helpless, shaky Credence - _his_ Credence - and that woman, that bastard of a woman, she _hit_ him, she hit Credence, _how could_ anyone _hurt Credence_ -

"I need to step out for a moment," Newt announces finally, his voice ragged, as he stands abruptly from the bed.

He walks out of the room and into the world inside his suitcase, breathing heavily as his steps, too, become heavier. He runs shaking hands through his hair - hands shaking with violent anger - disgust - pure, unbridled _fury_ at the woman who _dared_ to touch him, _how dare she hurt him_ , and his face is getting hotter and hotter and he feels as though he is bursting at the seams.

He releases some of his anger on a nearby rock, kicking it until his foot hurts, and then sits down on it, his head in his hands as he tries to push these thoughts away.

And then he hears it - the tiny, aching, shuddering voice.

"-I'm sorry, I-I didn't mean to be like that, Newt, I'm n-not the best conversationalist-"

Newt freezes, holding up his chin with his hands while his elbows rest on his knees. He stands up, a quiver in his body as he turns around to look at Credence. The smaller boy - he's smaller only because he's slouching, considerably and almost coweringly, but it makes such a noticeable difference, and one that Newt thinks shouldn't exist in the first place - is shaking. Newt can tell from the tremoring in his hands, the way that it seems as though there's an earthquake in his very soul and he can't keep himself steady and he's swaying and he's -

He's crying.

"Oh," Newt breathes, approaching Credence and placing one hand on his shoulder while using the other to lift Credence's face gently - Credence lets in a sharp intake of breath at the sudden touch, and his eyes, swimming with guilt, do not meet Newt's.

"I'm sorry."

Gravelly and quiet and guilty, Credence repeats his apology, and a new bout of something - anger - rises in him anew. But not at Credence - never at Credence. But how could Credence be apologizing for anything? He had never hurt a soul, and he behaves as though his crimes are steep in number, innumerable amounts of offenses that really boil down to nothing but staying out a few minutes late, and suddenly that is a crime. 

To Credence, that is a crime, Newt realizes, and he moves with a start; he puts both of his hands on Credence's shoulders and pulls him closer, surprisingly facing no protest. He pulls him into a hug, and he can feel Credence settle his forehead into the crook between Newt's chest and shoulder.

Newt pulls one of his hands back and begins to gently stroke the back of Credence's head. Credence shudders, lifting his head slightly, raising his black eyes so he looks at Newt, and he melts into the embrace with a new wave of comfort.

Out of pure impulse, Newt plants a kiss on Credence's head. It's tiny and shouldn't mean very much - just a show of affection, because Newt holds a slew of affection for Credence, after all - but it makes Credence stiffen, and when he looks up Newt sees him - blushing? Of course not. _Possibly._ Newt grins.

Newt presses his lips to Credence's head again, but this time it's so he can speak, and he means every word.

"I will never let anyone hurt you again."

**Author's Note:**

> thank u for reading !! that ending was weak but thank u if u made it !! kiss ur pets for me, and have a good day (or night. i see u late night fic readers) !!


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